The Hundred Peso Rip-Off
The Cadillac performs perfectly, the engine, the suspension, air conditioning, power windows, power steering, power seats, everything, except for one small thing. We are still running the studded snow tires that came with the Caddie from up north. They make a strange noise, somewhere between a hum and a low whistle, a little distracting but we adjust easily, just turn up the radio. She also feels a little soft in the back end and wants to drift a little on mountain curves, oh hell, it was just enough to make one keep the speed down. Probably better off in the long run. I drove the stretch into Guadalajara and enjoyed every mile of it, we checked into the Hotel Tres Estrellas and much to our delight, learned that the 30 pesos per man per night applied here as well, we learned further (posted on the wall was a rate sheet) that this was the price (government controlled) all over Mexico for this class of hotel, the economy model. We are delighted, it is a long way to South America and money is our main concern, in the long run it will dominate every other consideration because we have no way of getting more than we brought, no way to earn it, just a lot of ways to spend it.

After checking in, we shower and take our siesta. Upon awakening we set out in quest of food and grog, we are of course, successful. We enjoy our meal as we continue to catch up on what has transpired in the weeks since we have seen each other. After a few drinks and a check of our neighborhood, we turn back to the Tres Estrellas. Ed and Joseph go either to the room or to the bar, I don't know which, I was distracted by a billares (billiards) sign just down the street from the hotel. Neither of them is interested in going with me, so I go alone.

(Check out the size of this cactus, if you look to the right, you will see Joseph sanding underneath the cactus.)

I am pleasantly surprised, it is a great room. I check out some billiard balls and take a table. After shooting around by myself for about an hour, I ask a guy who had just finished playing if he wanted a game. He was a very good player, but declined my offer. I was disappointed, but no big deal. I just went back to the hotel and turned in for the night.

The next morning we rise and are ready to face the day, we plan to check out the whole town, the weather is great and we are looking forward to finding the marketplace and anything else of interest. The Caddie fires right up and continues running strong. We drive all around, looking at everything, however we never find the outdoor market we have heard so much about. We really don't care though, we are having a great time. Finally, someone suggests that we try to score some pot. We think that it will be easy, we have seen some guys on our travels that looked like pot dealers, so we set off back into those neighborhoods that looked right. After much driving around with no luck at all, we finally find a guy who claims he can help us. Ironically enough, finding pot in Mexico is just like finding pot in the U.S. I don't remember his name so let's just call him Juan, Juan leads us all over the city, down side streets, around corners, through alleys, and behind buildings of every type and description. At each stop, he mysteriously disappears around some corner while we wait anxiously in the car, wondering if this is the right place. Each time, he returns empty handed, with some story or another designed to keep us pacified, and encourages us to try one more place. After about two hours of this we start to get a little paranoid, I'm afraid that he's not going to be able to find any pot, but might lead us into a place where we could be robbed, or worse. He begins to notice that we are running out of patience and suggests that we try 'one more stop' a cousin of his, we comply and drive around some more. I personally, am completely lost by now, but Joseph is driving and says he is not. Ed just looks bored. Juan returns, jackpot! He is very nervous as he proudly shows us a very small amount of pot secured in the cellophane wrapper from a pack of cigarettes, he holds it as if it were gold. He invites us to try it. Joseph pulls out into traffic, and the job of rolling a joint falls to me. I succeed in rolling a fat one and we light it up and smoke it down to the smallest roach in recorded history. I wait to feel something, nothing, Joseph suggests another joint, after all, three were smoking on just one joint. We continued to drive around and I rolled another joint, we smoked it. Still we could not really say that we were getting any effect. Yet another, this final joint depleting the 'sample' completely. Nada, nothin', zip, zilch, no way. We all agreed, this was bogus, this weed wouldn't get a fly high. Juan was insulted, but not very insulted. We felt as though we should at least pay him for the sample, so, strictly as a gesture of good will and good faith, we asked how much he thought we should pay for the sample. He, without hesitation, replied, "one hundred pesos." I looked at Joseph, he winced, Ed just rolled his eyes. At that time a hundred pesos was about eight bucks, for Crissakes in the states pot was still going for ten bucks a lid, all we got was three joints, and really crappy joints at that. We were all perplexed, for some reason it never occurred to us to bargain with him, in retrospect, we should have, I'm sure he expected us to. But we did not, I just gave him a hundred peso note and Joseph let him out of the car. As we pulled back out into traffic no one said anything for a minute or two, then Joseph said,

"Jesus, what a rip-off." Ed added, "three joints for eight fifty, really, the hundred peso rip-off." We all had a good laugh at our own expense. I remember thinking, maybe if we hadn't smoked those three joints, we wouldn't have been so stupid. But we were, and the oft used expression, "the old hundred peso rip-off" was born.

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Copyright 1996 by R.P. Folsom. All rights reserved.